


The Witcher, His Idiot, and Their Daughter

by wickedwitchcraft



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Jaskier is such a dad guys, M/M, i dont know guys its just goofy stuff and then a big of angst at the end, just a teeny bit tho, outsiders are terrified for jaskier because if anyone else did any of THAT to the witcher, they'd be dead for sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwitchcraft/pseuds/wickedwitchcraft
Summary: Prompt: Outside's POV of Geralt allowing Jaskier to do things to him that no one would dare do to a witcher ie: braiding his hair, snuggling, bantering, touching, maybe Geralt says something hurtful and Jaskier smacks him.... or Jaskier grabbing and squeezing Geralt's butt.Like any or all of these happening in a tavern or market and the villagers are like, "oh fuck. This bard is gonna die." But Geralt just takes it and sometimes even smiles or cracks a joke, shocking everyone. ... ... ... And can we get protective Geralt too with ciri?Maybe Geralt going all angry, protective papa bear when some villager starts harassing ciri.
Relationships: Geralt of Rivia & Ciri, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Ciri
Comments: 54
Kudos: 1118





	The Witcher, His Idiot, and Their Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> these were kind of two prompts by the same person that i shoved together cuz i knew if i didn't either one or both wouldn't get done! I hope you like them!!! <3

Night had fallen hours ago, the tavern was quieting down, candle light shining as everyone drank and soaked in the warmth. Maria wiped at the bar, grabbing empty glasses that her patrons had left behind. Her eyes wandering to the corner of the room every now and then, wandering to the Witcher and his… interesting, band of people. Band was probably too generous a word. The Witcher had come into town with two people, a bard, who’s lovely voice had been filling the air in her tavern nearly all day, and a girl. They were an odd group. But they’d all been very polite to Maria during their stay and she had to admit she’d be sad to see them go.

She looked across the tavern once more, past the last few scattered patrons, to see the girl laying with her head in the bard’s lap, his fingers resting in her hair as she dozed on his leg. The bard himself seemed to falling prey to sleep as well. His mouth was moving as he talked to the man next to him, but every time Maria’s eyes fell on them he’d sunk down further and further. A few other patrons had clearly taken notice as well, all of them seemingly holding their breath to see how the Witcher might react when the bard’s head finally sunk low enough to rest on the man’s shoulders. 

Maria had seen enough the past few days to know that the man would do nothing, except perhaps adjust himself to be a better pillow. She smiled to herself as she wiped at a glass, glancing up to see the bard finally fall enough in his drowsy state for his head to hit the Witcher’s shoulder. She heard a few people take deep breaths, and shook her head. The Witcher pushed himself down a few inches, letting the smaller man’s head rest on his shoulder. She watched the white-haired man smile down at him, the bard’s lips still moving as if he was still talking, even though he was clearly asleep. Maria watched them, and smiled when the Witcher looked up at her. She filled a small glass with water and walked over to the table, nimbly walking around her last few swaying customers.

“For the little one. When she wakes.” She placed the glass gently on the table with a small smile. The Witcher returned the smile.

“Thank you. I’ll get them off your hands soon.” His gravely voice was low as he tried not to wake the two of them.

“You take as long as you need dear. Your rooms are upstairs so I can lock up with you in here.” She reached out, gave his non-occupied shoulder a squeeze, and walked back to the bar. As she passed the few stragglers still left, she gently guided them to the door. They left easily enough and she locked up after them. Smiling to herself again as she watched the Witcher wake his bard, and watched the bard gently pick the girl up, holding her carefully as the Witcher guided him, still half asleep, up the stairs.

~*~

The market is bustling today, people running this way and that, hands full of odds and ends. Cheerful voices fill the air as the young man scrambles through the crowd, his mother is waiting for him at their booth. He carries their lunch as carefully as he can through the crowd, stopping only when he hears whispers and gentle laughter.

“Come now Geralt, perhaps a hat is just what you need!” The voice is jovial, full of mirth and laughter. The young man pushes himself gently through a group of people and sees the owner of the voice, a bard, place a hat with a large colorful feather atop the Witcher’s head. Peter had heard a Witcher had come to town, his mother had forbidden him to try and hunt the man down to get a glimpse of him. But here he was, the fearful Witcher himself, letting this brightly smiling bard place a ridiculous hat on his head.

“Oh you look lovely! This one’s a keeper for sure, don’t you agree Ciri?” the smaller man looked down, to a girl with white hair standing beside him, a small hat in her own hands, she looked up at the Witcher and laughed, a bright bubbly sound.

“Oh it’s definitely his color.” She said, laughing harder when the Witcher hummed in annoyance. The bard laughed once more and took the hat from his head, making a face as he turned away.

“I though it looked nice. How bout this one?” he turned back around, holding a bright orange hat in hands. He moved to put it on the Witcher and was stopped with a hand on his wrist.

“This one looks to be more your color bard.” The Witcher’s deep voice carried over the crowd. The bard looked up at him for a moment.

“That is very true. I do look fantastic in summer colors.” The bard said with a wink before giving the hat a spin and placing it on his head.

“What do you think Ciri? Is it me? Does it say, ‘this man is the most glorious poet in all the land?’, cuz that’s really what I’m aiming for.” The bard looked down at the girl, she was looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh it says something alright.” She muttered, giving a smile to the woman sitting behind the table and walking to the next.

“Oi! That is _rude,_ young lady!” the bard called after her, the Witcher brushed past him, knocking the hat off his head as he went. The bard struggled to catch it and place it gently back on the table, giving the woman a smile as the girl had done before stomping after them.

Peter watched them shop for a few more moments and then ran back to his own table. Telling his mother all about the Witcher as they ate their lunch. He was finishing the last of his bread when those whispered voices filled the air and the Witcher and his bard came into view again, the girl walking next to them, smiling at something the bard was saying, his musical voice carrying over the crowd, just not well enough to hear.

The girl spoke then, ‘ooh-ing’ at something she’d seen and running ahead of the two men. Peter watched as she ran to Anne and Beth O’Brien’s table. They’d set it up a few weeks ago with a few of their friends, all of them gathered around the table, chatting idly and smiling at passersby. Peter watched as the girl ran to their table, and smiled when the bard followed her, ooh-ing the same way she had done when he saw the table full of flower crowns.

The girl placed one gently on her head, and smiled up at the bard when he did the same. The Witcher walked over slowly, his face a mask of irritation. The girls behind the booth all noticed him at once and froze. The bard looked at them for a moment before turning to the Witcher, he looked between them a few times and then sighed at the Witcher.

“Fear not ladies, he’s nothing to be afraid of.” The bard lifted the flowers circling his head and placed them on the Witcher instead. The girl at his side gasped dramatically.

“Oh Jaskier he’s beautiful. Try the orange and purple one! It’ll bring out his eyes.” The girl chimed, tugging on the bard’s sleeve. He smiled brightly at her and placed another flower crown on the Witcher’s head.

“Oh my god’s, yes! He’s gorgeous! Aethereal even!” The bard, Jaskier, exclaimed, making a very dramatic display of swooning over the Witcher now dawning two flower crowns. The girl laughed by his side, her head thrown back, eyes shining with tears. The girls behind the table where smiling now too, any fear they’d been having gone with the show from the bard. Peter watched the Witcher’s eyes flow over the bard and the girls, all of them laughing and smiling at his expense, and then he watched the Witcher smile with them. Peter would have sworn he even saw the man breathe out a laugh when the bard put yet another crown upon his head, but would never be certain. That was last he saw of them before his mother shoved him away to do his chores.

~*~

The man’s hand on Ciri’s arm lights a fire inside Geralt. Jaskier sees it ignite as soon as the small sound Ciri makes hits his ears. Geralt is across the room in seconds. Jaskier does his best to keep up. The man grabbing Ciri is shoved against the wall before Jaskier has time to blink, Ciri is on the floor, tears in her eyes. Jaskier helps her to her feet gently, she holds onto him tightly as they both look to Geralt. His hand is on the man’s throat, Jaskier can see his fingers pressed deeply into the skin there. A few other men have jumped to aid the man against the wall.

“Take Ciri upstairs.” Geralt growls, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.

“Geralt.” Jaskier cautions, his voice quiet.

“Jaskier. Upstairs. Now.” Geralt looks over his shoulder, letting the rage fall from his face as he looks at the bard, Jaskier feels his stomach twist, but nods and reaches for Ciri.

He pulls her into his arms, she wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as he carries her through the gathering crowd. He reaches the top of the stairs before he hears the first scream, Ciri makes another small noise as he carries her to her room. He checks her arm before tucking her into bed, a bruise already forming. She snuggles down under her blankets, eyes wide, Jaskier sings to her. He sings to her to soothe her, and he sings to her to drown out the sounds coming from downstairs. He sings song after song after song until she’s sound asleep in her bed. And then he sings one more song, waiting for the silence that he knows will come when Geralt is done.

He closes the door to Ciri’s room as quietly as he can, walks across the hall to the room he and Geralt are sharing, Geralt had claimed the bed. Technically _Jaskier_ had claimed the bed, but he’d learned quickly while traveling with Geralt that claiming things didn’t really seem to matter all that much to the man. He’d sleep where he damn well pleased, all else be damned. So Jaskier had made himself a small nest on the floor and tried his hardest not to sneak into bed after Geralt had fallen asleep.

He leans back against the door once he’s inside, his head falling back with a small thud. He can hear water sloshing to his left and knows Geralt must be washing off blood, possibly worse things.

“You didn’t kill them _all_ did you?” Is all he says, eyes still closed, not moving from the door.

“No. Not all.” Is the gravely reply he gets. Jaskier sighs and pushes away from the door. He throws his jacket onto his nest in the corner and then walks to where Geralt is bathing. There are several cuts on his arms, and one very deep one on his back. Jaskier clenches his fists so he doesn’t reach out and touch him.

“Does that need stitches or will your Witcher-y- ness handle it?” Jaskier askes, wrapping his arms around himself as he circles the bath to look at Geralt. The man looks up at him, splashes water on his face, the blood there turning pink and running down his skin.

“My… Witcher-y-ness… will handle it fine.” Geralt grunts, washing away more blood.

“Hmm.” The hum being all Jaskier would allow himself to say. Geralt looked at him, watched him pace back and forth slowly, and then washed away more blood.

“Ciri?”

“Asleep.” He’d never spoken less in his life.

“Hmm. I heard you singing when I came up.” He stood up in the water and climbed out, Jaskier turning away quickly, willing himself not to stare, god knows he’s been in trouble from staring at men before. He didn’t really think Geralt would care, but _he_ cared, for once, for his own safety.

“Yes well, I didn’t think she’d sleep very well listening the sounds of you murdering people downstairs. That’s actually not as calming a sound as you might think.” He glared at Geralt’s back as he pulled on is shirt. His arms still crossed over his chest, fingers digging into his ribs, he was doing his best to keep his anger in check.

“You’re angry.” Was all the Witcher said when he turned to look at him. Jaskier bit his lip and rolled his eyes.

“You are. I can smell it on you.” Geralt was smirking now. Jaskier darted forward, closing the distance between them and pointing his finger at the man.

“We have a child with us. Ciri. Is a _child_. I understand that that man hurt her. And I wanted to kill him as much as you,” he was whispering heatedly, glancing at the door once, he didn’t want to wake the girl.

“But she is a child. And the last thing she needs from you, is you getting angry at every little thing and beating the living daylights out of people in taverns. You can’t just… do that. You have to … use your head. She’s a strong girl Geralt. She was just scared. And you going all crazy Witcher murder man doesn’t help anything. For any of us. And-“ he stopped himself, rubbing at his neck as he turned away from Geralt. He was breathing heavy.

“Jaskier.”

He didn’t answer, just squeezed his eyes shut.

“Julian.” His eyes snapped open, his heart fluttering in his chest. Geralt never used that name. Jaskier turned slowly, looking at Geralt cautiously.

“You did well. Taking care of her.” He closed the space between them, walking toward Jaskier with a strange look in his eyes.

“And I’ll try to do better.” He reached out, wrapping his fingers around Jaskier’s arm, willing him to relax his arms.

“You better.” He didn’t know what else to say. His body felt tense and uncomfortable with things unsaid.

“Something else is bothering you.” Geralt reached out again, touching his neck this time, angling Jaskier’s head up to look at him.

“Tell me what it is and I’ll do my best to remedy what ales you.” Jaskier smiled up at him, a tear falling down his cheek.

“I just don’t like seeing you hurt.” He reached out, fingers gently tracing over a small cut on Geralt’s arm, it was already healing, the skin looking as if it had barely been broken. Geralt’s eyes watched his fingers move against his skin, Jaskier would swear he saw him shiver but chocked it up to wishful thinking. He pressed his fingers into the skin there and then quickly pulled his hand away. Pulling himself out of Geralt’s reach as well, the feel of his hand on Jaskier’s neck was going to make him vibrate out of his skin.

“Jaskier. I’m fine.” Geralt sighed, Jaskier sighed himself, turning to look at the Witcher, to his credit he did look a bit guilty, his shoulder slumped as he looked across the dimly lit room.

“You are this time. And what happens when you aren’t? What happens to us? What happens to Ciri when you take a job and don’t come back? Am I supposed to just… take over? Just take care of her forever. I can barely take of myself on a good day Geralt. And she isn’t mine, the way that she is yours. It's isn’t the same. It wouldn’t be right. She needs you. I n-,” Jaskier bit his tongue, breathing heavily through his nose, his fingers moving together nervously at his sides. He moved his teeth from his tongue to his lip and stared at the ground when he heard Geralt approaching him.

“You what?” his voice was soft, Jaskier closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to recover, to put on a cheerful face and pretend he hadn’t almost said something he might regret. He opened his eyes and looked up at Geralt with a cheerful smile, shaking his head to clear it a bit.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. You know we should probably get to bed. We have to be up rather early in the morn-“ his voice stops in his throat when Geralt’s hand curls around his arm and stops him from walking past him. Jaskier swallows hard when Geralt pulls him close, he can feel the Witcher’s breath on his neck, his skin tingling with every breath Geralt takes.

“You what, Jaskier?” he whispers it, and Jaskier knows he pushing him now, doing it on purpose. He snaps his head to the side to glare at the Witcher.

“I need you. Is that what you want to hear? You already know that. I need you, _far more_ , than you could ever need me. We’ve established that, time, and time again. Now will you please let go of me and let me go to bed so I can forget this ever hap-“ his throat closes up when Geralt pulls him closer still, their noses almost touching. Jaskier blinks at him slowly, his hands dangling uselessly at his sides, Geralt’s hand still firmly holding his arm, his other hand now wrapped around Jaskier, warm on his back.

“You… you annoy me to no ends sometimes. Most of the time.” Geralt started, Jaskier tried to pull away from him, a tight feeling spreading across his chest, Geralt held him easily in place.

“You never stop talking. And I enjoy silence. And I know I treat you… worse than I should. But please,” Geralt moved his hand up Jaskier’s arm, across his shoulder, letting his hand come to rest on the bard’s cheek.

“Never doubt that I need you.” Jaskier raised his eyes from Geralt’s chest where he’d been focusing them. He nearly gasped when he saw the look Geralt was giving him. He looked, wrecked. Like he was opening himself up for the first time in… ages. Jaskier furrowed his brow.

“I need you to believe me. I need you, Julian. Always.” His voice was shaking, a barely there sound but Jaskier heard it, underneath the soft growl in Geralt’s voice, it was there. He felt a tear fall down his cheek and laughed a little when Geralt brushed it away with his thumb.

“I believe you.” Jaskier whispered, it was all he could manage. His voice still very much lodged in his throat.

“More than you’ll ever know.” Geralt pressed forward, his forehead resting against Jaskier, he shivered at the contact. He moved his hands up slowly, cautiously settling them on Geralt’s arms, needing to touch.

“You could… tell me. Sometimes. We could work on that, teach you to use your words a little more, who knows, maybe you’ll like it? Maybe once we get you talking, you’ll never shut- Mmf!” Geralt pressed his lips firmly against the bard’s, Jaskier nearly toppled backwards from the force of it. He grabbed onto Geralt and hummed as the man held him impossibly closer, deepening the kiss as he held Jaskier on his feet. When Geralt finally pulled back Jaskier was breathless, blinking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Yeah or not. That- that works too. We can just… Do that… instead.” Geralt hummed, moving his nose against Jaskier’s and then pulling him back in for more. Jaskier hummed against his lips, tangling his fingers in Geralt’s hair as his Witcher held him close.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading guys! i've only ever watched the netflix series and i was also very tired when i wrote this so all mistakes are mine and it's chill guys we're all here for fun! <3


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